Sunspire Mountains all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach

warning: mature. we talk about riley's lil wick here

Dim as he was, Riley could sense his inexpert caress was met with resistance. He pulled away, made graceless by the burdening nervousness that trilled in his heart. She hates what I'm doing, she's going to change her mind, she thinks I'm stupid -- uncharitable thought-soup swirled its way malignantly into what little reserves of self-confidence Riley had.

Despite the clamoring of his thoughts, it was hard to miss the subtle cant of Esme's eyes. Riley knew where she was looking, and he knew too that there was something fattened there that hadn't been anywhere near as obvious before. Riley's lil wick had gone from unlit to flaring Roman candle. He had presented her with his growing boyhood, and she had not looked disgusted. Rather, she had looked interested. Score. The yearling grinned awkwardly, his toothsome expression falling away to something akin to resilient determination: he would do this, he would by gods tame this frolicsome filly, he would finally pop his cherry and feel what it was like to be inside a woman.

Riley gulped, ignoring the second-guess thoughts that whittled away at his assurance like insectile misgiving. He clumsily felt around Esme's hips, wincing as he moved to limp behind her. For several seconds he was mesmerized by the way her tail fanned out to the side; the intimate scent of her; the pulsing of his undersides and the burning that rippled down his abdomen. In short order the heavy gown of his innocence would be shed, in short order Riley would be something transformed while he thrust his way to some new height, tantalizingly close to ecstasy.

"Fille facile." Riley murmured in hushed wonder. She was so beautiful, she was so intelligent, and she was letting him -- allowing him -- to for a moment share a world together.

Again came that sharp thudding pain -- not the pleasant sensation of his groin and heightened boyhood, but something else. Riley pushed it aside, making a gawksome attempt to climb atop Esme's spine. His breath was faster than said tripped-up-thoroughbred; he felt his blood racing through his head and through a powerful part of him he had never had the chance to experience before.

All he had to do was guide it, point and shoot. Riley held Esme's scruff gingerly between his front legs; it was perhaps the only tender gesture that entire moment. His brow furrowed as pain speared down his hips again, and his tongue stuck out between his clenched teeth as he tried a second time to bring his hips forward, to guide that heat-seeking missile home --

Only to feel another, far unkinder agony flare up along his side like wildfire. It roared like fresh-kindled drywood to life, burning to life in a way that instantly immolated the extended sensation that had hummed pleasantly up and down Riley's sheath. No, this was a totally different experience - and it stole from him the eagerness of his erection.

Fuck, it hurt.

With ears pinned in pain Riley again tried to ignore it; this time he carefully brought his hip, despite all protest, towards Esme's tail -- for a wide eyed moment he thought this was truly it -- the moment he was crowned conqueror -- only to feel his proud flag shrivel into squishy softness. There he hung disbelievingly, limp and impotent, against Esme's backside. Panicked now, Riley continued to slowly rock -- but it was more like smashing marshmallows against Esme's buttocks than prodding with an happy-stick. Riley's enthusiasm was slowly being replaced by horror, for the one thing he had needed more in this moment had poked its head out, stretched, and then said 'nah fam I'm good' and retracted back inside of him.